Flutter
by daedricgurl
Summary: The line between hate and infatuation is quite thin, but Lukas never saw them merging. He also never saw a man like Stefan in his future either. NorIce. Lukas-Norway, Stefan-Iceland. AU. Rated MA. Discretion is advised.
1. Chapter 1

_'__He__'__s__a__prisoner.__'_

A zipper is pulled down, the sound echoes through the damp and dingy dungeon.

_'__And__he__'__s__crazy__…'_

A pale blond stares down through the cell bars at an even paler blond. The prisoner on his knees, needy hands on his pants and tugging them down to his ankles already. They're both pressing as close as they can to the bars. That's all that separates them but it's still not close enough.

_'__This__is__wrong.__'_

The frigid air flicks across his hard dick, but it's warmed fast by the heavy and heady breaths of the prisoner. It was wrong, so wrong, but he was so turned on and painfully hard because of it.

_'…__wrong__…'_

"Suck it already." The prisoner jolts almost fearfully, and suddenly he's in that clever little mouth. He loved it…

"Stefan, you clever rat. You're getting so good."

The boys hands grip around the bars tightly, but they then move to muscled thighs as the heady, tasty length is in his mouth completely; practically down his throat. The platinum blond hair brushes against milky thighs, swaying with the effort of bobbing his head up and down on his captor. Hot tongue is laving, pushing, lapping, licking everywhere; lips suffocatingly tight around the head of his prick, then twisting around the base. In a particularly wet, heavy suck, Stefan pulls thick tasting pre-cum from the slit, whining loudly as it touches his tongue.

Pale hands slide up equally white skin, grabbing at a firm, tensing ass, kneading and squeezing. A deep moan punctuates the thick air, the captor rests his head against the bars while reaching down and taking the prisoner by the hair to hold him on his cock. A final show of brutality; thrusting several times into that evil mouth, deep gags and moans fill the cavern now.

"Fuck!" a grunt.

Looking down, a stream of cum has shot down Stefan's throat, the boy finally able to pull back, but then had several spurts also clinging and running from his face, dripping from his lips.

A hard fought swallow, gasping, a single mewl.

"Lu…kas..?"

"Don't say my name." A few breathy cackles are heard from the other cells around them. How embarrassing it must be for the prisoners to be molested this way, some able to see what transpires; like those behind them, they were merely thankful it was Stefan and not them.

"I'll be back tomorrow." A nod from Stefan, his vision hazy. His tormentor makes him do this everyday, but he still can't help but see him as an angel.

Lukas buckles up his pants, slides the rifle that had been leaning against the wall along his back where it belonged. After staring down at the rat in thought, he grabs the soiled face, heaves the boy up and pulls him against the bars; they share a kiss that's rough and ravaging before Stefan is pushed away so hard he collapses to the ground with a shout.

Lukas is walking away, Stefan reaching out blindly for him.

"Don't leave me! The-they'll get me!"

"Shut up, the only one you should be scared of is me."

Stefan trembles, the boots clacking on the stone that is Lukas's retreat go quiet, that voice echoes and dwindles.

"But I'm not…"


	2. Chapter 2

It was so strange, maybe not to Stefan but certainly to Lukas. He wasn't hurting or tormenting the lad behind bars – the other prisoners were enjoying the silence, or at least the apparent calm atmosphere. Most had already bed on how long it would last.

Lukas stood before the cage looking down slightly; trained eyes staring into the shadows that cloaked corners. A figure was cloaked in those shadows within, eyes peering up at Lukas. They glimmered.

"They told me you had a rough episode." Lukas speaks softly.

"Ah, well… It is nothing new." Stefan replies in kind.

Lukas turns his back to the bars and leans against them, the rifle on his back screeching against the iron. He removes it and leans it against the half of foot-or-so stone wall that runs back and separates the prisoners. Then he slides down the bars to sit against them rigidly, staring ahead blankly. Feeling odd since Stefan hasn't approached like usual at his first appearance, ( the silven is immediately at the bars to see him on those days).

"I know to others I appear crazy when I speak to _him_, but he is _very_ real to me." The voice is still far away, Lukas can tell Stefan is still curled tightly in the corner.

"What do the voices say to you?" He hears a small, deep chuckle. "Oh, but it's not just a voice, _he_ isn't in just my head. He's with me always. He says to me, 'why do you rot here?' or 'we can escape, let's escape!' Sometimes he tells me to kill, and sometimes we just talk."

Lukas shudders.

"What do you talk about?"

"Our families." The voice seems closer, Stefan must have shuffled nearer. Lukas briefly touches the ring of keys that hang from a buckle on his chest. His hand drops limply to his lap.

"You have on?" Stefan replies instantly, almost cutting the question off, "No," he picks up quickly, "they died after I was drafted. Even though I'm not an ideal soldier, they still took me."

Lukas feels the gentle press of fingers against his lover back, but he doesn't move.

"I defected and turned myself over to your regiment because I didn't want to kill anymore." Now he feels whole hands on him, pressed to his back soft but unmoving. "What I do feeds him, I didn't want him to become anymore malign. We take the beatings are punishment, and it quells him enough."

"They told me you ran, so I suppose this is better then death that awaits you back at your home." Stefan smiles, leaning against the bars, his arms pushed through them and running over Lukas's shoulders in a massaging fashion. "But I'm bothered. My body aches, I want to run, yet I don't want to…" The hands run down the front of his chest, Lukas feels them run over the keys and bypass them; showing not even the slightest interest in escaping. The Norwegian soldier feels no concern. Slightly lost in what that body looks like beneath the tattered uniform even, —surely blue and red; coated in dust, like his hair which probably used to glimmer in the light. Only his eyes kept their brilliance now.

"People go mad in this place, but if you're already crazy what else have you to lose?"

He hears that laugh from behind, Stefan is always amused when people mention his mental state.

"I suppose not much, huh?"

Lukas turns his head enough to look over his shoulder, seeing a dirty uniform, a pale throat, and then gleaming eyes when he flicks his gaze up.

"Lukas,-"

"Don't say my name." Silence, and Lukas wonders just why he doesn't want Stefan to say it. The silence doesn't last long, Stefan speaking up once more.

"Do you like being a soldier? Do you like this war?"

Lukas is able to spin on the ground in that half-hold, reaching into the bars and grabbing Stefan by the collar of his shirt and pulling him against the bars, Stefan muffles a cry, grabbing the bars and scrunching his nose. The soldier was quick to anger at even the slightest of things, often jumping to conclusions.

"What are you trying to get me to say, huh! Working your witch tongue at me! I am not a coward deserter like you! I have half the mind to slap you silly! Or better yet, shoot you myself!" Stefan collapses to the ground in a heap when Lukas lets go, the poor boy gives a rasped cough.

"You're fucked up. You're crazy. Do you think I would abandon my loyalty to God and my king?" Stefan smiles up at him, wipes some dirt off his cheek. Stefan, like many of those in Iceland were pagan. The remarks didn't seem so undeserving.

"No don't go!" Stefan sees Lukas leaving, marching down the corridor. He tries to follow but the bars are in the way, he can only press tightly against them and reach out. When Lukas is gone, his hand drops limply back into the cell and against his side.

"Crazy… huh?" Stefan slinks to his corner and curls up again.


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry I've taken so long to update, University takes precedent over writing-but I'll have y'all know I missed writing so much.

Anyways, finally got this up and all-can you tell my writing has gotten better? I can. HAH

I'm too lazy to edit crap, sorry guys so please continue to deal with my awful grammar and all thank you!

So as always PLEASE

**REVIEW**

Makes my day. Makes my miserably dull life quite bright.

And also-enjoy!

View discretion is advised.

I don't owe shit. Aaaaaand... Yeah that's all.

Thank you.

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><p>Tears of outrage, confusion, and desperation left dirty tracks down Stefans cheeks which had turned red during his sobbing. Lukas hadn't come to see him recently, three days to be exact. It left Stefan desolate and depressed. None of the guards knew what to do, the lad wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he only cried and screamed at himself.<p>

Stefan was currently having a muttered debate with himself, and it was tearing him apart. He grips and pulls his hair, a voice berates him, mentally assaulting him.

'_He's left you, and he's never coming back.'_

"Shut up!"

'_Why do you like him anyways? He's a bad person.'_

"No!"

'_Than you're the bad person.'_

"Me-I am? But I-.."

'_Don't make excuses. You're disgusting. Everything is your fault. You probably are the reason your whole family is dead.'_

"No! I didn't hurt anyone!"

'_If you'd only done your job, they'd all be alive and we wouldn't be here.'_

"But I don't believe in killing! I would never-..!"

'_But you've killed before. Don't you remember? That old man medic from Clenn-field battle? You strangled him. Or the little girl from Asmudson villiage who you shot in the head?'_

"But he was the only one left! He begged for it! And the girl watched her whole family die, the others would have raped her! I helped her!"

'_No they had a chance to survive. They were innocent. You took that chance away from them.'_

" But they-.."

'_No! You deserve to die! You killed and should be killed yourself! And good riddance because if you ever get free all we'll ever do is kill.'_

"I don't want to!"

'_Then I will help you.'_

"Help me?"

'_Yes boy, you see that wall?'_

Stephan nods, slowly getting to his feet and wiping his cheeks with a dirty hand. He walks to the wall and sets his hands on it, leaning his forehead against it.

'_It will hurt only for a little while, but soon everything will be better. **You** will be better.'_

"Will Lukas be mad at me?"

'_Of course not, he'll be happy, even if you're gone.'_

"But I don't want to die…"

'_Yes you do, you just don't know it yet.'_

"Really?"

'_Yes, I see everything, even things you can't. Trust me. It won't take long. It is very simple.'_

And Stefan finally makes that mistake, trusting the insanity within and then it's like he's lost all control of his body. With a sickening crunch, skull meets stone and blood splatters across the wall. Stefan lets out a startled gurgle of a cry. Blood pools on his dingy head, and he does it again, his skull almost cracking open, blood pouring down his face, coating the stones and slithering to the filthy floor. His hands are coated, warm and sticky from where he grips the wall. Pulling back he's about to deliver himself what he hopes is the final crunch, tears poor down his face, making the blood run like water as they mingle; yet someone grabs his shoulders and hauls him back, he realizes quickly he can't see, hearing is muddled and all he has to show he's conscious is the hands he can feel holding him, and the pain. Blood sputters from his mouth in another gurgle and cough to join the rest of the gore on the wall.

Stefan is confused, unable to move his legs to keep himself standing as he is pulled back, and he slip, the one to catch him in the act had to hold him up while support rushed to his cell.

The prisoners that had made sure to alert the guards at the entrance of the building remained eerily silent. They were witnesses to what happened, wishing to never have to watch something like that ever again.

The blood dried there and left a great stain after Stefan was dragged away.

The New Army of Norway was well equipped and supplied as opposed to the enemy and their numbering allies, as such they could afford target shooting. Lukas had just unloaded a clip of a rather newly designed pistol onto a cloth covered hay bale when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lukas loads in another clip, sets the safety and stows it away before turning.

The soldier before him is young and fidgeting with unease, he knows Lukas is prone to bouts of anger, so after their jerky salute he is hesitant to speak.

"Well spit it out!" Lukas doesn't seem too annoyed even while making such a… cursing face, shooting practice had helped some, and so had the introduction of a new gun; he was actually quite happy.

"Lieutenant Kock wanted me to tell you that a 'Stefan Stiellson' is in the infirmary. Is this a friend of yours, sir?"

At first the words didn't seem to touch him, and he just stares levelly at the little 'pee-on'.

"We aren't friends." It's almost a growl, but he seems to level out, briskly beginning to walk back to the directed location. The infirmary?

"Tell me everything that happened. Now."

Down the rows of beds a very forlorn man walks. His boots tap audibly on the cheap make shift wood-slab floor. It's Lukas, and he stops at one bed in particular to study it's current occupant and his temporary bedding. He grabs a chair made of light wood and pulls it up to the side of the bed, the side Stefan is facing. The man is resting on his side, a dull linen wrap curls tightly around his head, Lukas can see they hadn't really bothered to clean anything more than the wounded area. The hair was matted around his forehead, or clinging to his dusty face, even past the grime though he could tell there was a sickly complexion.

"No matter how crazy, or sick, how can a human hurt themself so brutally?"

Lukas had spoken quietly, yet Stefan was still alerted and awakened. His eyes opened; they squinted in the new barrage of light, but most striking to Lukas was how dull they looked… He wasn't blind via head trauma… was he?

"You're here…" Stefan wasn't completely blind, disoriented certainly and in pain but nothing that wouldn't heal in time. Lukas was relieved to be identified. Wait! Relieved?

"What the hell were you doing?" For once he didn't tell, just growled under his breath.

"I wanted to fix me, he told me that it'd be better that way, but they wouldn't let me finish it off." The 'they' he referred to were the other officers, and the fact that they had stopped him seemed to genuinely trouble Stefan.

"You stupid-!" he was cut off by Stefan, "but it worked."

"What?" Lukas receives a sweet, but tired smile from Stefan.

"I know he's talking to me, but I can't hear him, I just hear a buzzing sound." Lukas stared long and hard at Stefan. He'd noticed that the man spoke a little slower than usual. He also gauged an inability to walk or stand from that.

"At the price of a concussion, slurred speech, and even more stupidity, and the fix isn't even permanent."

Stefan took the berating in good nature with a dull smile.

"At least I tried," And that struck Lukas.

"But why?"

"I don't want you to hate me anymore, want… to be better for you…"

Stefan's mouth faltered for a moment, eliciting a small laugh from him. Lukas only could watch, this man was such an odd creature to be able to do something so horrible to himself for such a stupid reason.

"Go to sleep."

"Will you still be here?"

"If you're strong enough to wake up again, maybe."

"And for some reason that was good enough for Stefan, the man seemed to press himself into the bed and his sole pillow, violet eyes flutter shut. Lukas slouches in the chair, crossing one leg over the other, then crossing his arms over his chest. His lips a pale flat line as he watches Stefan yet refusing to admit he's watching _over_ him..


	4. Chapter 4

Musing upon it now weeks after the incident, Lukas figures he'd blown up over nothing. Stefan had been merely asking a question while Lukas presumed or inferred the rest. Lukas didn't like uncertainty though, and that little comment had plowed a small field of it in its wake.

It was more than just a warm day today on the outside, the land smothered in sunlight was positively searing under the military uniforms. The only reprieve from the sun was the damp and dingy prison; some were lucky. Others not so much. Stefan could be considered unlucky, sitting outside at an unfolded make shift table. As prisoners of war they were readily made use of. Stefan had a needle and thread, stitching battered and torn uniforms back together at the cost of his fingertips, the man next to him was fixing the soles of shoes.

Sweat falls from Stefans nose, eyes squinting to watch his needle work. Blinking hazily at the damp spot he'd created from the dripping sweat. He feels light headed, woozy. It's been several hours since their last break and his tongue was feeling heavy and swollen in his mouth, his throat constricting like he was attempting to swallow cotton ball tips. He sets the pants down, putting a hand to the side of his head, he feels the network of scaring around his forehead, the tender bruising still left, a buzzing constant headache always lingered with him. He lets out a groan that has other soldiers peering at him.

One was about to open his mouth to say something when a hand clamps to his shoulder, he turns to see it's Lukas and immediately shuts his mouth. Lukas' eyes are on the pale Stefan who was quickly getting sunburns.

"What is this?"

"Orders. POW's to help with work."

"I don't see any soldiers doing work along side them."

"Well—"

"Do you see that one?" Lukas interrupts and points. "He's injured and very sick. Has been. Who said you could use him?"

"I got back a few days ago from the Slavic region… I wasn't aware, sir."

"Hmph. I'll be taking him back to the infirmary, you better give the rest a water break this minute."

Lukas is striding past his counterpart to the drooping man at the table, rapping on it to alert hi. Stefan glances up with hazy eyes, drooping lids, and cracked lips parted to gasp for air.

"Come with me."

Stefan tries to stand as ordered, his legs give out and he collapses against the table. Lukas had to help him up and around the table. The man was dehydrated, weak, and fazing in and out of awareness. Lukas felt he was more like dragging him than leading him anywhere.

They ended up taking a detour though, Lukas unwilling to go to the infirmary. Plus, with Stefan leaning against his side it would look too strange. Lukas scrunches his nose in disgust.

"You reek."

Stefan had never been washed since arriving. The scent of sweat and putrid blood cloaked him. And that was why he'd taken Stefan to a masked pond in the woods nearby; the location was convenient and much cooler.

The pond has a shallow bank; its shore had dark sand and dirt, now more clay from the water and weather. It smelled of algae, decaying wood and leaves and slightly of fresh fish. It smelled like the wild around them. The water itself was a brownish green, floating lily pads and algae covered the far end. Lukas didn't figure the pond to be very deep.

Standing in the sand, Lukas begins attempting to undress Stefan while he man leans hazardously against him. The articles of clothing (more like scraps of cloth now) fall into the sand while Stefan helps to toe out of his boots. Lukas also takes off his own boots and leads Stefan to, and into the water. He helps the naked man to sit on the cool clay ground, water engulfing him up to his hips. Lukas hands over his canteen if water for Stefan to suck down.

"Don't drop it." He warns so that he can get back to dry land and dress down. His clothes are discarded in a neater pile beside Stefan's. His gun is balanced on a rock further away to keep it dry.

When he returns to Stefan, the canteen is empty so he simply throws it onto the pile of clothes and hoists Stefan up again. His skin is less feverish; the water helping to suck the heat out. He leads them out to deeper water with slow and careful steps, steps that have them waist deep in water. The water around their knees is much cooler than he water surrounding their abdomens; but from Stefan's sigh of bliss it's easy to tell that he thought all of it was just perfect. The Icelandic prisoner more at home naked in a pond than Lukas, the devout man feeling awkward.

"Can you wash yourself?"

Stefan smiles down at the water, splashing water onto his chest and shoulders; streams of red-brown run down his torso. He scrubs at his arms with his knuckles, rubbing his chest and stomach in the same manner.

"Here…" Lukas puts a hand on the middle of his back. "Lay back, I will hold you up." A fish nips Lukas's toe playfully and yet it goes unnoticed.

"But why?"

"Your hair is what smells the worst."

"Oh…" The uncertain pause agitates Lukas as he must wait, when he's about to comment, that's when Stefan finally moves. A small crook to his knees, he leans back uncertainly, But Lukas' hand firms up and he's lowered into the water, head tipped back, floating upon it's surface with a hand never letting him sink.

Lukas is running his hand determinedly through the clomping and dirty locks until they become loose and fan out in the water. The shade lightens, becomes an off white, yet some glimmer is restored. Lukas' finger spindle and feel along Stefan's scalp. He feels the raised scars and slight dents in the skull; thick hair had done well to hide them from all but feel.

"Ow.."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not." Lukas pauses, flicks a smirk and helps Stefan to stand.

"You're right.

When Stefan looks down at his body, Lukas can't help but do so also. Stefan is rather pale, his shoulders hunched slightly, lines from his hips slant down into the water; it's dark and conceals the man. There are only dulling marks on the rest of his body though, green and yellow blotches that seem to finally be fading interspersed throughout the surface of his body.

The man only puts up with staring for so long, eventually Stefan turns from the seeming hunger growing man, he wades carefully and slowly closer to the shore. The water drops from waist to thighs… to his knees. He freezes when he hears a great splashing behind him, the sound of running through the water, splashes of it slap his back before a slick body crashes to his back and Stefan is whipped around to face Lukas, water drips down both of their faces. Their bodies are pulled close, Stefan's hips are crushed painfully against Lukas's , he twinges and seems to grow faint.

"Lukas…"

"Shut up, okay?" Stefan stumbles back from the push, falling into the water. He sits up, waves slapping against his hips where he is seated. Lukas eager falls onto Stefan's legs, hands pressed to pale thighs which he pushes apart, they fall open for him easily. The position had forced Stefan to lean back on his elbows while he watches-wondering.

"Are you going to..-?"

"Shut up I said." Stefan smiles as Lukas clambers awkwardly between Stefan's legs. "I'm not queer." He tries to sneer as he awkwardly bumps their soft members together, slowly starting to roll his hips and grind himself into hardness against Stefan.

"You're just kind of pretty when you're clean and don't smell like sewer rat."

Stefan only smiled briefly, his head lolls to the side and then tips back when the member begins to feel the stimulation and becomes sensitive. His body seems to lock on to the potential events and his stomach does a summersault. His thighs sear, muscles twitch and then his raises his legs, knees squeezing either side of Lukas's waist.

"And being at war… No… Women…" His cock jolts when it slides over Stefan's scrotum and finds his anus below and a bit further back. The hardening head pokes the entrance once, excitement hits Lukas like a wall and his organ stands at attention almost painfully fast.

He angles, manages to lift Stefan's hips with a hand, the other helping to guide his cock; he begins pushing in. Stefan's lips part in a silent groan, his arms tremble and he squeezes his legs tight against Lukas's waist.

It was hard to get in, but a few bucks allowed him to push past the tight muscles with force that had them suddenly slapping together. Stefan had screamed in surprise, the sound still rung in Lukas's ears. His cock jumps where it is embedded into Stefan at the sound. Lukas Moves, slapping his hips back into Stefan who's wholly body rocks and the man himself gasps for air. They begin to rock together, water splashing up between their stomachs at every thrust. Stefan has an arm around Lukas's neck to pull him closer; he's barely able to keep himself propped up on one elbow. Every thrust seems to have him sinking back into the water. There is a rough hand on his thigh; it moves to grip his hip, jerking him up slightly as he's plowed into. Another hand is fisted into the soggy ground beneath them for leverage.

Stefan is moaning loudly right into Lukas's ear. Slowly Stefan seems to understand the rhythm and Lukas's needs, the movement transition from rushed to frantic. Out of pure luck Stefan's prostate is struck in a rough thrust. His cry of rapture dwindles to low whines. He re-angles himself, arches his hips up when Lukas slams down and forward to force himself all the way in again; with the bundle found Stefan is constantly rolling out moans. Lukas grabs Stefan's cock, squeezes, and then it's like the man beneath him seizes up, squeezing his orgasm out suddenly and almost painfully as a follow-up to Stefan's sudden climax. Stefan lets out a low mewl, Lukas can only groan as Stefan is filled. The water lapping at them seems to wash the warm seed away. Lukas withdraws his soft member, Stefan shifts and grimaces. Able to shift to a real sitting position when Lukas pulls away. Stefan's rolls his shoulder, it hurt from the battering it went through.

Lukas grabs Stefan's other arm to help him up.

"Let's move to the grass so we can dry…"

"Yes, alright."

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><p>Don't forget to review guys, especially if you have questions.<p>

Just don't think too hard, this story really has no intelligence put to it.

Hope you enjoyed, now please humor me with comments.


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a difficult parting; Lukas can't help but muse as he stays ducked down in his trench. His regiment had just rotated back to the third trench, Lukas would be able to rest, eat, and clear his head now. He felt sorry for the new blokes who had switched to the first trench; the front row battle trench. The early morning would have him up there again though, rotating the next day to the second trench, then the third again, it was a never ending cycle. How long had it been since saying goodbye to Stefan then, on that note? He checked in a small book, there were thirty-three lines; thirty-three days.

"Just over a month."

"What do you mean; just over a month?" Lukas flinches at the voice that pierces his reverie. Turning to see a wild hair Danish ally they'd been placed with. The man was always grinning, and always happy to fight, it perturbed him.

"We've been here over a month, I've seen no results."

The Dane pulls out a cigarette, carefully lighting it and beginning to some leisurely.

"Well, that's how a war of attrition works."

That impudent man spoke like he didn't know that already!

"Do you have someone waiting back home?"

Almost sputtering, but not quite, Lukas throws a handful of dirt at 'Matthias'.

"Do you not know how to shut up?"

He gets a grin in reply.

"I wonder how the Swedes on the other side are fairing."

Lukas stares up at the darkening sky.

"It was such a surprise they declared against us." Matthias continues.

Lukas muses. "Maybe…Maybe they knew what was really 'right'."

The Dane stares at him. "It's all in perception. It is the winner who is 'right' in the end." Lukas grunts at that.

"Go away. I'm resting for tomorrow; it's going to be a long day."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Lukas! Where is he?"

"Calm down sir, he's in the medi-tent!" The Dane rushes there rather frantic. Three month campaign and Lukas had been shot. The news had scared him half to death. And while death was a constant ally in war, no matter how used to it one was, losing a friend was always hard.

"Lukas!" From the medical bed he was sitting on, he looks up. The Dane suddenly towering over him and the nurse that was helping to put the sling on for his arm. The shrapnel cuts on his face and neck had already been cleaned and covered.

"They're sending me back to my home base tonight."

The Dane had figured that much, Lukas couldn't perform right now.

"They said you turned down a blessing." Lukas flexes his fingers once the sling is tightened and in place. "I'm not in the mood to hear God's merciful words while on a bloody battlefield. I said I'd pray when I got back to my base." The sarcasm in that stretch of words worried Matthias, many lost their faith on the battlefield; it was such a shame.

"I'll be mailing you, so you know that we won."

"You're counting your chickens too soon."

"First of all, it's eggs not chickens." The Dane chuckles while Lukas looks at him rather dryly and humorlessly. "Second of all, just you wait and see."

"Warm water ports. Suitable land for agriculture, woods for lumber, tar sands for oil, _religion to spread._" The last one is a sneer; it reverberates off the stone walls. Lukas is back home, but he'd hardly rested before taking up post in the jail cellar. He was sitting against the bars, pistol in his lap held securely with his good hand. The shoulder of his wounded arm is slowly being massaged, a pale hand rubs it gently.

"Lukas," Stefan has a glimmering tone of mirth in his voice. "Do not speak blasphemy, you'll get in trouble. Not to mention, you don't mean it how you're saying it."

"Shut up Stefan, you don't know what I do, or don't think." Lukas only gets an untroubled laugh, a turn of his head allows him to see a joyous face, bright eyes, soft lips, and no bruises.

"You really cleaned up well while I'd been gone."

"Well, my body absolutely thrived after you took me to the lake. Then when I heard you were coming back, I made a request for a wash cloth and water. They let me. It was amazing."

Lukas appears amused at Stefan's need to appear neat and clean for him, but he quickly becomes solemn again.

"Stefan?"

"Mmnh?"

"I'm going to confine in you something; I give you permission for input." Stefan is laughing quietly to himself.

"This war… is it right? Is it fair? I mean, as you've seen it, what is it all for?"

Stefan releases Lukas so that man may turn around to look at him, waiting for a reply. It was confusing to Stefan for that most part that his input was being asked for.

"There is no right or wrong in war, even so, it's never fair either. It was not fair that my regiment shot down a whole village, and it's not fair that your country started coming mine first. Citizens are innocent for the most part, but in war you cannot discriminate between enemy and 'true enemy'."

"Don't forget to answer the other part of the question."

"I don't answer it all because your question is not something I could possibly know—what is it all for, for you? That is the question you need to ask yourself. No one will ever know the true intentions of their leaders. Let alone I, who came from your enemy's side."

To Lukas, some of this seemed like gibberish, this man was crazy after all, but maybe because of that he could see things differently, he could avoid… propaganda and brain washing… dare he think it? His expression isn't pleasant-no one likes the thought of being brainwashed or conditioned.

Stefan wants to sooth this, he reaches through the bars, gently takes the soldiers face and brushes his thumbs over an arched nose and high cheekbones, what a dreadfully handsome man…

"You've been thinking, you're going to hate it, and it's going to torment you, but try not to feel regret. You'll fall."

"My sins are too great to be forgiven by God… It's too late to repent." Stefan is pressing closer to the bars, trying to pull Lukas closer too.

"No. It's never too late, I know enough about your God to say he'll forgive you if you find your way again."

Lukas was pulled just close enough for a chaste kiss, tipping him from his daze. He needed to think more! This was dangerous!

The soldier jerks away, staring at Stefan.

"I must go. Don't do anything stupid while I'm away."

And Stefan had to watch the man walk away, fearful that one day he would never come back.


End file.
